


Simple Man

by hannahindie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Gen, Impala, Simple Man, Supernatural - Freeform, song prompt, spn fanfic, supernatural fanfiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 13:21:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16954836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahindie/pseuds/hannahindie
Summary: Narrator gives Baby’s point of view regarding the Winchesters, especially Dean.





	Simple Man

_Mama told me when I was young  
_

_Come sit beside me, my only son  
_

_And listen closely to what I say.  
_

_And if you do this  
_

_It will help you some sunny day._

 When you’re a child, your parents are the ones that comfort you, and make you feel like you’re home and safe. They wrap you tightly in their arms and smooth your hair after a nightmare. They rock you while quietly singing lullabies to lull you to sleep. And all the while, they are trying their hardest to impart the values that they wish to see in you, the dreams that they hope you will someday see come true. They hope that their knowledge and love and advice will give you a fighting chance and that you’ll hopefully grow into the kind of person that will change the world. 

 There are, however, exceptions to the rule. This rule has been broken for many different reasons, but for the Winchesters, there wasn’t much of a choice. Their case is a tragic one, and though we won’t go into details about what happened, the short version is their mother was torn away from them far earlier than she should have been by something, that by all accounts, shouldn’t have even existed. So, thus began the domino effect that turned their father from a grief-stricken widow to one of the most formidable hunters the supernatural world had ever seen. 

_“Oh, take your time, don’t live too fast_

_Troubles will come and they will pass_

_You’ll find a woman and you’ll find love_

_And don’t forget, son, there is someone up above”_

Sam and Dean Winchester were loved. John and Mary Winchester had loved their boys more than anything. Mary loved them even in death, and John…John loved them in his own way, although it had changed from a soft, warm kind of love to a sharp and violently protective one. It was the kind of love that taught them how to protect themselves, that taught Dean that he had to take care of Sammy no matter what, and as they both grew older, how to protect everyone else. And although that kind of love is important, fiercely important especially in their line of work, they didn’t often see the softer, gentler love that is often given freely. The kind of love that teaches you to enjoy the simple things, the kind that shows you that you don’t have to be wealthy to be rich. John tried, as best as he could on most accounts, but the truth was, that part of him had died with Mary. So the Winchester brothers grew up, jumping from hotel to hotel, never knowing the comfort of having a real home, or being rocked to sleep in warm, safe arms. 

 Despite this, Dean was lucky. He had blurry memories of Mary, like how she’d make tomato rice soup when he was sick, or the way she’d sing Hey Jude to him as a lullaby. How she’d cut the crusts off his sandwiches, and give him his favorite pie for dessert. Dean had those memories, and though they weren’t much, they were enough that he could be that comfortable love for Sam, the home he could come back to even when they were on the road. Sam relied on that, more than he probably ever realized. Dean had taught Sam to fight, had taught him to stick up for himself and for others. But he also had taught him that family was important, and that it was okay to appreciate the little things, like how it felt to finally kiss the girl you liked and how soft her lips were, because how in the world could anything ever compare to that?

_“And be a simple kind of man_

_Oh, be something you love and understand_

_Baby be a simple kind of man_

_Oh, won’t you do this for me, son, if you can”_

However, there’s a part of the story we haven’t gotten to yet, and you could say it might even be the most important part. John had bought the 1967 Chevy Impala on April 30, 1973. This story has already been told, so I’ll move along from that, but from the start, that car was important. Of course, nobody could have predicted just how important, and to some people that aren’t aware of our heroes’ story, it’s just another car. To the Winchesters, though, this car was literally their world. They grew up in that Impala, traveling the country on a quest they didn’t understand yet, and leaving their mark on her just as much as she did on them. They’d experienced a lot in that car, and truth be told, they didn’t think much about it. Dean, of course, loved the Impala so much he named her Baby. He rebuilt her time and time again, no matter how impossible it seemed, kept her shining, and made sure that engine purred like a kitten. Although both brothers loved and appreciated that black beauty, nothing compared to the love Dean felt for her. 

 And, if that Impala could speak, she would tell you she loved them just as much. She would tell you about when they were nothing more than babies and Dean held Sam in the back seat and sang Hey Jude to him when Sammy cried. She didn’t have arms to rock them to sleep, but the warm leather of the bench seats comforted them after a long day of driving, held them softly as they traveled back roads and waited for their dad to finally find a place to stop. She would tell you about the tears that were shed and the fights that were fought, and the silent struggles when the hunt didn’t go the way they wanted and no amount of words could make that kind of hurt go away. 

“ _Forget your lust for the rich man’s gold_

_All that you need is in your soul_

_And you can do this, oh baby, if you try_

_All that I want for you, my son, is to be satisfied”_

She would tell you about the times Dean snuck off with her to take a girl out, and how they usually ended up in some field under the stars if the weather was right. That even though Dean’s reputation was a bad one, he took the girls out to see the stars because that was his favorite thing to do with Sam… Because their mom had done that with him when he was little.  And that when the star gazing was abandoned for frantic kisses and forgotten clothes, when that back door slammed shut and all that was left were soft sighs and quiet moans, their names whispered into the night like a prayer…Dean meant it. Maybe he didn’t mean forever, but in that moment, he meant every word. 

Baby would tell you that when Sam left, it was like a piece of Dean was gone. He pretended like it was fine, but she could feel it in the way he drove, the way he gripped the steering wheel and played the music a little too loud, as if he was trying to fill the empty space with sound so he’d forget. But she’d also tell you that no matter how much he wanted to beg Sam to come back he didn’t because he wanted so desperately for one of them to have a normal life. He would pour his secrets into her, like a sinner giving his confession, and tell her how angry he was at their father and how abandoned he’d felt by the only family he had left. The words left his mouth easily in the safety of that Impala, words he would never say to his father or brother, because Baby was like a vault. She would tell you how occasionally, when Dean became tired of cheap hotels, he would drive out to some secluded place, lay down in the backseat, and stare at the sky through the back windshield until sleep overtook him and the only sounds were his light breathing and quiet snores.

_“Boy, don’t you worry, you’ll find  yourself_

_Follow your heart and nothing else_

_And you can do this, oh baby, if you try_

_All that I want for you, my son, is to be satisfied”_

She would tell you that when Sam came back, the light returned to Dean’s eyes, and even though the reasoning for it was devastating and Dean would do anything to not have Sammy go through the same thing he did when they lost their mother, he was glad that they were back together. Just another confession to the Impala’s dashboard when he caught a moment alone. She would tell you how complete she felt when the brothers were together, and although Dean was the main one, the one that kept her safe and clean and beautiful, the one she felt the most need to comfort and protect when he had nowhere else to go, she loved Sam too. If the Impala could speak, she would tell you how wonderful the sound of their laughter was, like music on the breeze. And that even though, as the years passed and the boys lost more and more, she would always be there to lull them to sleep with the vibrations of her tires on the pavement, the dull roar of her engine, and the rattling of the Legos in the heater that Dean had shoved in there years before.

She would tell you about the times they sat on stake-outs and joked and bickered. All the sad, quiet moments the boys shared as they leaned against the hood, the conversations reserved for when they alone and most vulnerable. She had lost count of the times Dean had to wipe down the seats, clean them from the blood one or both of the brothers had spilled after a particularly dangerous hunt. She would tell you how much she missed driving down the dusty driveway that took them to Bobby’s house, and how safe she felt nestled among the junkers while the brothers were inside what they had considered their home for a long time. Although Bobby hadn’t been their true father, she would describe to you the love that was in that gruff and cranky man’s eyes, and how every time they left, his face fell a little and had they just looked in the rear-view they would have realized how much they really meant to him.

 If the Impala could speak, she would tell Dean that though she has loved him since John and Mary brought him home, that love became almost unbearable the night John put him and Sammy in the car. Because that was the moment that Baby became their home. Every scraped knee and tear, every fight and every moment filled with laughter…they became a part of her.  She would tell him that all she wanted for him was to be able to settle down, that he had done enough and so had Sam. She would tell him that she hoped that he remembered to enjoy the little things, because it was in those moments that she remembered him being the happiest. That every smile, every stop at a scenic overlook, every night they spent stretched out on the black leather seats, their voices low as they discussed a case or a girl they’d seen in a bar and whether she’d looked at Dean or Sam more were the moments that counted, more than anything money could ever buy.

She would tell them that although she may have been home to them, she wouldn’t have been nearly as important without the two of them.

_“And be a simple kind of man_

_Oh, be something you love and understand_

_Baby be a simple kind of man_

_Oh, won’t you do this for me, son, if you can_  
  


_Baby, be a simple, really simple man_

_Oh, be something you love and understand”_


End file.
